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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28261434">Somewhen</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodieaddicted/pseuds/Hoodieaddicted'>Hoodieaddicted</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:15:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,087</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28261434</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodieaddicted/pseuds/Hoodieaddicted</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>«What year is it?».<br/>Every morning of my life I wake up and I ask myself when I am.<br/>Yes, I know, it might sound like an awful hangover, but I’m perfectly sober. I’m just a man who can travel in time. Nothing like Marty and Doc and their Delorean, unfortunately, I just wake up and I find myself somewhen without knowing when.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Somewhen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>«What year is it?».<br/>Every morning of my life I wake up and I ask myself when I am.<br/>Yes, I know, it might sound like an awful hangover, but I’m perfectly sober. I’m just a man who can travel in time. Nothing like Marty and Doc and their Delorean, unfortunately, I just wake up and I find myself somewhen without knowing when.<br/>The only upside is that I always wake up in my room and in my house.<br/>My bedroom is big and small at the same time. It's big, but as filled as it is of souvenirs it seems way smaller. I can feel the jealousy of every museum's curator for the treasures I have accumulated in my little reign of chaos.<br/>It's the only place that remains always the same.<br/>Well, now you (in the remote eventuality that someone is reading my journal) might be wondering who I am… well, I don’t know. <br/>I don’t know my name, my age, where I came from or when I came from, who are my parents or why they left me. <br/>Of course, for living in the world I needed a name, so I created myself an identity. <br/>My name is Russel Earnshaw, I live near London (well, the proximity to the city depends on the historical period. In the Middle Age, I’m practically a foreign for the Londoners). That’s all. I’m not a good writer, this is the best character I managed to create. Also, I was just ten when I create myself, so I think it was a decent job.<br/>«My Lord, have you called?».<br/>My faithful Sigmund, my loyal butler. He is a constant presence in my life, even if he does not know travelling with me, he is always when I am. «Sigmund, what time is it?».<br/>«It’s half past seven in the morning, my Lord». His figure is distinguished; he has more the appearance of a lord than I can ever hope to have, and he knows it. <br/>«Thank you, Sigmund».<br/>He just bows his head and leaves the room. <br/>Well, well, well. Time for discovering when I am, I suppose. I already have some clues.<br/>1) There are no radiators in the house so I am before 1855.<br/>2) Sigmund has called me “Lord”, so we are in a period when I’m a noble.<br/>3) I can’t refresh my Instagram feed, so Internet doesn’t exist yet… how bad for my social life.<br/>One of the main entertainments in my life is wandering in the city and trying to guess the year in which I am without asking someone. Yes, I have such a miserable life, but I can still enjoy this little time by myself, strolling in the streets, watching people, imagining who they are and how they live. <br/>Before leaving for my little adventure, I need to get dressed, of course, but with little clues of the current year, it is a Russian roulette. I remember a funny incident once happened, it was in the year 1212 and I was thinking of what to wear for the day and I had just been in the 1974 so I had this sober pair of yellow bellbottom jeans and I decided to go with them… in 1212…during Middle Age…yep… I was such a genius when I was younger. They wanted to burn me at the stake, for witchcraft. Well, at their exculpatory, I was quite disturbing, so I can understand them for hunting me with torches and pitchforks with the intent of turning me into a kebab.<br/>From this event, I learned a very significant lesson, always open the curtains and check the buildings before getting dressed, and, of course, I trained myself running faster, just in case.<br/> <br/>«Lord Earnshaw, your breakfast is served in the dining room». Sigmund's voice is low and guttural, not the kind of voice that can appeal a child alone in a manor at night, but you cannot have your cake and eat it too.<br/>«Thank you, Sigmund».<br/>After breakfast, I decide to leave for my tour of the neighbourhood. <br/>At the end, I opted for a simple pair of blue trousers and a jacket over a white shirt. Even if I'm again in the Middle Age it should be appropriate. Well, actually it will not be appropriate in Middle Age, but there’s no way I’ll wear a tunic.<br/>«Sigmund, I’m leaving».<br/>No answer, as usual. It’s as if he is the Lord of the house and I’m just a servant, but I don’t mind. I prefer him to be like this, I’m used to it.<br/>As soon as I open the front door a gust of wind blows through my hair, I know this wind. It smells of grass and sun. Only one period has this smell for me. It’s the smell of my favourite book. It’s the smell of yellowed paper and social graces, of crinoline and lace, the smell of a “simpler world where love is straightforward and lasting” to cite one of my favourite movies. I am in the Regency era. And I could not be happier.<br/> <br/>The weather is not so hot, it’s perfectly tolerable and I’m really enjoying my walk.<br/>Everything is green, as far as you can see, trees, bushes, birds singing (well, the birds are not green, but are hidden in the trees so they are green too).<br/>As soon as I deviate from the path to get into the woods I see a figure. She (I can tell from the dress she wears that is a woman or a very, very, strange man) is not far from when I am, I can recognise some physical features. She is gracious, blond hair coiffed in the manner of the time. <br/>Getting close to her I can hear her voice, it is like the voice of a child, light and lively, but without the impertinence proper of the children.<br/>A pair of big blue eyes stares at me for a moment, but it’s just a moment.<br/>Now that they have noticed me I need to introduce myself, but I’m anticipated.<br/>«Good morning, sir?». The voice of an elderly man asks for my attention.<br/>«Earnshaw, Lord Randall Earnshaw». I introduce myself and I bow respectfully.<br/>«Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Earnshaw». Says the man, and bows himself, «allow me to introduce myself and my family, I’m Mr Betten, my wife Mrs Betten, my son and my daughters». And everybody bows included me.<br/>«Do you live in the neighbourhood, Lord Earnshaw?» - asks me, Mrs Betten<br/>“Yes, Mrs, just a few yards from there. You can see my manor over there” I say pointing to the portion of my house seeing from there.<br/>«Oh, I see. Do you have taken possession recently?».<br/>Yes, Mrs. Betten, I take possession very recently, this morning when I woke up in this year.<br/>«Today, for truth».<br/>«Oh, I see, I see». I don’t know if they want to speak with me or want me to leave, let’s try and see.<br/>«Yes, I'm a new addition to the neighbourhood, I hope not unpleasant».<br/>«Of course not, Lord Earnshaw, of course not» – she clearly wants me to stay. Mrs Betten remembers me of a character of a famous book, maybe in a few minutes she will tell me how beautiful her daughters are and how perfect house owners they will be. To avoid this, I ask if they want to join me in visiting the fields nearby, hoping Mrs Betten and Mr Betten will stay where they are.<br/>«I hoped, maybe, visiting the fields nearby. Do you mind joining me?».<br/>«Philipp, Louisa, Alice, Elizabeth, accompany Lord Earnshaw»<br/>Good job Randall, good job.<br/>«Yes, mother».<br/>I bow respectfully and we leave for our “trip”.<br/>The girls walk behind me and Mr Philipp Betten.<br/>«Have you lived there for a long time?». I ask him to show interest and politeness.<br/>«Yes, ever since».<br/>Philipp is an average man, round face and bulbous nose, green eyes and wide, friendly smile, maybe too average to be her brother, but his smile is as bright as hers. <br/>«Allow me to introduce my sisters; this is Louisa, the younger one» - says Philipp introducing me to a little charming girl, of about 13 years old who bows respectfully and returns near the sisters. «This is Alice» – and also Alice bows without saying a word. «And this is Elizabeth» – now her big blue eyes stare at me directly, I kiss her hand and just watch her blushes.<br/>«Are you married?».<br/>«Louisa, it’s very impolite and rude to ask this kind of things». Alice lectures her little sister, but I’m not bothered by the question.<br/>«Don’t, please. No, I’m not married» – I say and I look at Elizabeth and I could swear I see her smiling. <br/>«Do we continue our excursion?». Damn Philipp, I’m courting your sister, do you mind?<br/>«Of course » – I say and Elizabeth takes my arm to walk with me, it’s a bit surprising, but not unwelcomed.<br/>We, the five of us, walked for about an hour but we didn’t go far, we just took a walk around the woods.<br/>«Do you have planned to join the upcoming ball?»<br/>«Alice, I don’t think Lord Earnshaw knows about the ball. He is new in the neighbourhood».<br/>«I would be pleased to attend it. When it will be?».<br/>«Tomorrow» – Elizabeth answers, without even making me end the question.<br/>I look at her, I can see excitement on her face, and the silent hope of seeing me again… or maybe I’m just fooling myself and she only wants to return home and never see me again.<br/>«I will certainly attend it, where it will be?».<br/>«At our house» – says Louisa joyfully.<br/>«We will see again tomorrow, Miss Louisa». I bow to the little girl and she laughs. She's so cute.<br/>«Now I think we should go home».<br/>«Oh, so soon?».<br/>Philipp, you’re ruining my approach techniques, friend. <br/>«I’m afraid yes, it’s time for Louisa to attend her French lesson, n’est-ce pas?».<br/>«Ainsi, la demoiselle parle française?».<br/>«Oui» – she answers proudly, and even more cuter than before.<br/>«Vous parlez française, Seigneur?». Elizabeth’s French pronunciation is perfect, as if she was really French. This woman just enchants me more every minute.<br/>«Oui, Je ai souvent été en France» – using the channel tunnel it only takes 20 minutes to go from England to Paris, but she doesn’t need to know it.<br/>«J’aimerais visiter la France».<br/>«Eh bien, si vous voulez, pouvez participer dans une de mes prochains voyages ». Maybe I’m going to fast, but when you wake up every day in a different century you don’t have time for trifles.<br/>She blushes and looks down. It’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen hundreds of women in hundreds of different years.<br/>«Lord Earnshaw, please excuse us, we need to go now».<br/>Philipp, listen, you are really giving me nerves, mate.<br/>«Oh, I see. Well, we will see again tomorrow». I say and I kiss Elizabeth’s hand while she blushes violently, it’s so beautiful!<br/>«See you tomorrow then».<br/>And they go.<br/> <br/>I walk into the woods for hours and hours, thinking about Elizabeth and how she dazzled me. I’ve never felt this way before. <br/>She is so beautiful and so charming, and I’m… I’m… sincerely I don’t know how I look, I do not reflect in the mirror, so maybe I look like James Dean or maybe like Timothy Spall… I really hope to look more like James Dean than Spall.<br/>I suddenly hear a noise coming from my stomach, like an engine that lights up. So, either the secret of my condition is that I’m a cyborg or I’m just hungry and well, since this morning I only had bread and eggs for breakfast and now it’s lunch time, I feel free to say that I’m not a robot (I’ve never found traces of rust when I bath so I’m pretty sure of this).<br/> <br/>I return home and I find Sigmund waiting for me with his habitual attitude of composure.<br/>«Welcome home, Lord».<br/>«Thank you, Sigmund, the lunch is ready?».<br/>«Yes, my Lord» – and, guess, he bows. <br/>I ate lunch and then I retire in my room, I spent all the rest of the day thinking about Elizabeth and about the upcoming ball. <br/>I can’t dance, or rather the only dance I can do is the chicken dance, but I don’t think they will put up this song… what a pity, I could give them the performance of the century. <br/> <br/>As soon as I fall asleep I feel the usual sensation of falling for hours and hours, like Alice when she falls into the rabbit hole.<br/>When I was young every night was a nightmare for me, I cried and screamed all night long.<br/>Nowadays I just close my eyes and try rest a bit while falling.<br/> <br/>I open my eyes in a completely different scenario, I'm in 2017 as the calendar on my phone says.<br/>My phone connects to the internet so I can update my Twitter and my Instagram… my 5 followers will be delighted by my daily cat photos.<br/> <br/>I know what you are wondering, if I’m in 2017 how can I go to the Bennet’s ball? <br/>Well, my “peculiar condition” works in a very strange way. Every day I woke up a different year it’s always the 23rd of May, always. The day after I wake up in another period and if I have been in that year before it’s the 24th, the 25th and so on… so the next time I will wake up in the year of the Bettens it will be the day of the ball.<br/>So, I just need to wait until I will wake up in their year, and this is the reason behind this journal, remembering what I live in every period so that I can look “normal” when I relate with others.<br/>Before the journal, I used to make an ass of myself very often.<br/> <br/>I go downstairs and I cook myself something for breakfast, may not seem like that but I’m quite a good chef, I really like cooking. Maybe I could cook for Elizabeth sometimes... maybe if we marry…<br/>Well, actually we can’t marry or have a love interest or anything… my life doesn’t work like this. <br/>I have tried building up a family, but it never worked out… I don’t even have a photo of her…<br/> <br/>«Sir, there is some business that requires your attention».<br/>«Yes Sigmund, I’m coming».<br/>Thank God Sigmund makes me back to reality, I often lose myself in my thoughts.<br/> <br/>In this year I’m a business man (look, I have forgotten this because I wasn’t taking a journal at the time), or this is what it looks like looking at my desk, piles and piles of documents to be signed, sheets covered with charts and diagrams and numbers, numbers everywhere… I hate numbers!<br/>After 3 hours trying to figure out what to do with all these documents I throw all the papers in the air and go out for a walk, I need to relax.<br/> <br/>I take my car and I drive, just to decrease the stress a bit. <br/>I stop to take a beer, as soon as I enter in the bar I hear a Jamaican music and smell of weed… maybe it’s not the suitable place for me, but I decide to give it a chance.<br/> <br/>«A beer, please» – I ask the bartender, a Jamaican guy with dreads, like Bob Marley, you know?<br/>«Sure bro!».<br/>When he brings me the beer he stares at me and asks me how I feel, I don't want to explain my life to a complete stranger, but as a bartender, it is part of his job listening to me and to my problems.<br/>After roughly explaining my “complications” with Elizabeth, the man looks at me with a thoughtful and reflexive expression, maybe he’s making up a philosophical thought…<br/>«Bro, ya need to chill».<br/>My head struggles to find a sense to this sentence. I wasn't expecting Socrates or Descartes, but maybe something more. Though I'm in a bar, not in an intellectual cafè, so when in Rome, do as the Romans do.<br/>«Excuse me, what?».<br/>«Bro, take it easy».<br/>Well, I surrender. I have no idea of what this man is talking about<br/>«Of course, I agree».<br/>«Yeah Bro!».<br/>Do I need to call him bro too? I'm confused.<br/>He reaches out his fist towards me… is this some kind of non-verbal language? How should I react?<br/>«C'mon bro, punch!».<br/>I punch his fist and he looks satisfied so maybe we are some sort of friends now.<br/>«What’s your name, bro?».<br/>«Randall».<br/>«Cool, bro! I’m Bob, but everybody calls me Friend Bob, so you can call me Friend Bob too».<br/>«Good, so thank you for listening to me, Friend Bob».<br/>It’s nice to have a friend, or rather, it’s nice to have a Friend Bob. <br/>«So, this girl ya talking, call her».<br/>«Well, I can’t».<br/>«You don’t have the number?».<br/>«Well, we can say so».<br/>«Hard cheese, mate».<br/>Cheese? What is the exact connection between the lack of phone number and the cheese?<br/>Friend Bob might have understood my hesitation because he adds:<br/>«Bad luck, mate».<br/>So, in this historical period finding hard cheese is a sign of bad luck, good to know<br/>«Yes, very unlucky».<br/>«Do ya wanna something to relax?».<br/>What is he planning to offer me? Though I don’t have to make a great fantasy effort to guess…<br/>«Look, the first try is on me, but only if you don’t call the Fuzz».<br/>«Of course, I will not call the Fuzz», whatever it is…<br/>I have never tried weed before, I’ve only tried opium in one of those Chinese opium dens once, but I didn’t like it.<br/>Friend Bob passes me a cane and we start smoking together.<br/>I feel light and carefree, but still master of myself. I just don’t care, I just want to enjoy the moment.<br/>Suddenly I feel a hunger never experienced before in my entire life, I could literally eat a cow, with clogs and bell.<br/>«Friend Bob, it’s normal to be hungry?».<br/>«Yeah, Jock!»<br/>«My name is Randall, not Jock» – but Friend Bob is no more listening to me, I would like to stay more in the bar, enjoying the company of Friend Bob, but I’M HUNGRY!<br/>I say goodbye to Friend Bob and I jump into my car, I need to go home to make myself something to eat.<br/>As soon as I arrive home I run into the kitchen and I start cooking something.<br/>«Please, raise your hand, I’m armed and I’m calling the police». I hear Sigmund’s voice behind my back.<br/>«Sigmund, it’s me» – I say, turning on the light.<br/>«Sir!». He shouts putting down the gun (why does he have a gun?). «Why are you cooking at 4 am with the lights off?»<br/>«I was hungry and I didn’t want to bother you».<br/>He stares at me and from his look, I can assume he doesn't believe in a single word.<br/>«Well Sir, since I’m awake now, please take a sit and allow me to cook something for you. What would you like to eat?».<br/>He’s like a father to me, when I was a child he took me to the park and to the rides and medicated my scraped knees. He’s my father. Even if our relationship is more like the one between Bruce Wayne and Alfred, I still see him as my father.<br/>After eating half a kilo of pasta and a steak as big as my face I go to bed and I spent, probably, the most beautiful sleep night of my life… but in the morning, I feel like rubbish. I will never smoke again!<br/>But there’s no time for thinking about last night, I hear the bombing alarm siren and I run out of my room searching for Sigmund.<br/>«Sigmund! Where are you?».<br/>«Sir, I’m right here. We must go to the subway tunnel».<br/>As always Sigmund is perfectly calm and self-possessed, I envy his attitude.<br/>We run to the nearest subway tunnel and we hide, along with hundreds of other people, elders, children.<br/>There is a group praying with a nun, there is a mother comforting his children, telling them that everything will be fine, even if in her eyes I can see the terror.<br/>I don’t need Sigmund to know the date, it’s 7th September 1940 and London is under German bombardment.<br/>There is a woman, not far from me and Sigmund, crying silently watching a faded and wrinkled photograph. It’s the picture of a man, a soldier, who is probably death in the war. Her weeping is composed and sober, like she doesn’t want to be seen from anyone. But I can’t turn my gaze.<br/>She is so beautiful, dressed in a rose tailleur, with white shoes and white gloves that have now turned black with the dirt of the tunnel, but even if she’s covered in dust she keeps her grace.<br/>She’s crying on the only one picture she has of the love of her life and I start thinking about Elizabeth. I don’t know why, I only saw her once, but still I can’t avoid smiling if I remember her smile. She’s so pure and I really miss her. I don’t know if I love her, I don’t know if I will ever love her, but now, under the bombing, praying for our lives, I hope to survive to see her smile again.<br/>The woman is touching her belly… she’s pregnant, and her baby will never know his father. I know the feeling. But he will have his mother, a beautiful, caring mother who will raise him, I’m sure of this.<br/> <br/>We remain in the tunnel for hours and hours, all in silence, even the children. When they finally let us go because the city is safer the spectacle that appears to our eyes is horrifying. Everywhere you look there are debris, rubble, dust. Most of the buildings have been destroyed, but the worsts are the corps. Not everyone was as lucky as us.<br/>I have seen so many wars, but the image of a child holding a doll, covered with rubbles and her mother despairing near her little dead body will hunt me forever.<br/>Sigmund and I return home without saying a word. I just want to go to bed and sleep, hoping to wake up in a happier period.<br/> <br/>I couldn’t be happier waking up this morning, I’m again in 1814, so today I will see Elizabeth again.<br/>I spend the morning thinking about the perfect outfit. How much I miss internet right now, even if I'm not sure there is a fashion blogger specialised in Regency Era Men outfits.<br/>At the end, with the help of Sigmund (without him I would die), I find the perfect outfit. White breeches, white waistcoat and white cravat with a black tailcoat and a black top hat. Mr Darcy would be proud of me.<br/> <br/>Finally, arrives the evening and I take my coach to go to the Betten’s house and I’m delighted by what I see.<br/>A charming house, with marble staircase and columns, all illuminated by hundreds of lanterns. Everything is breath-taking, but the most spectacular view is Elizabeth.<br/>She welcomes the guests in the house with her stunning smile, dressed in white with a refined gold necklace and pairing earrings she is the portrait of the elegance and grace.<br/>«Good evening, Lord Earnshaw» – welcomes me Mr Betten and we bow. I'm going to get in when I'm called.<br/>«Lord Earnshaw, please wait» – says Elizabeth and I stop immediately.<br/>«Maybe I could show you the house» – she says.<br/>«I would be delighted» – and together we enter the house.<br/>She describes me the rooms, the drawings, even the chandeliers (maybe her dream is to be a real estate agent?), but I’m not paying attention to the words she says, I’m just thinking about her lips and how much I wish to kiss her.<br/>«Do you like this painting, Lord Earnshaw?».<br/>I like you, Miss Elizabeth.<br/>«Very much».<br/> <br/>When every guest arrives, Mr Betten makes a small speech thanking everyone for the presence and starts the dances dancing with his wife.<br/>«Miss Elizabeth, would you do me the honour?». I ask offering her my hand that she takes without hesitation and we start to dance.<br/>As I said before I’m a poor dancer, but she doesn’t seem to mind even if she is a perfect dancer.<br/>We talk and we laugh of my bad dance moves, I think I might be in danger of falling in love like never before I’ve been in my life.<br/>«Lord Earnshaw» – calls me Philipp Betten while I’m talking to Elizabeth. I’m starting to hate this guy.<br/>«Mr. Betten, good evening». I greet him with a bow to with he replies bowing himself.<br/>«I was searching for you».<br/>«Well, you have found me now. How can I help you?».<br/>«Lord Earnshaw, for me it’s difficult to say, but I have a responsibility towards my sister. May I ask you what are your intention with Elizabeth?».<br/>The question catches me off guard. Maybe I was to reckless? I don’t see anything wrong in my behaviour, but I can understand Philipp, he must keep her sister’s respectability.<br/>«My intentions with Miss Betten are the most honourable».<br/>«Well, thank you, Lord Earnshaw, for clarifying this aspect. Now you can return to your dame and enjoy her smiles» – and after a bow, he goes away to her parents.<br/>However, I don’t return to Elizabeth, I need a minute for myself, I need to think about what Philipp said.<br/>I can’t assure a future to Elizabeth, I can’t marry her, I can’t give anything to her. I can stay in this period only for one year, then I will never return. It’s always the same, I just got 365 days (364 actually) to live with her, then I will never see her again.<br/>I can’t do this to her, not only she is so young, but also, she is inexperienced with pain and loss. I can't do this to her, I must go. Hoping that my behaviour didn't damage her.<br/>While I was calling my couch, I see her coming towards me.<br/>«Lord Earnshaw, are you leaving?».<br/>«Yes, Miss Betten, I can’t stay longer. Please excuse me» – and I jump in my carriage leaving to my house.<br/>I lose her. I lose her forever.<br/> <br/>The days pass, the weeks pass, I wake up and just lay in bed all day waiting for the sleep. I'm not proud of myself, but I can't do otherwise. I miss her, but I know this is the right choice for both of us.<br/>Once I tried fighting against my life, and I lost. I lost my wife and I lost my unborn child.<br/>It was in the year 1920, I met her in a club, she was dancing and she was beautiful. I fell in love with her instantly. We married after 5 months and she became pregnant shortly afterwards. We were the most happier couple alive, but our happiness wasn’t destined to endure.<br/>I never woke up again in her time. I never saw her again. I never saw my child. For years and years, I tried reaching him, when I was in the 1940s I tried finding him, or her, but I never succeeded. I wonder if it was a boy or a girl, if it had her eyes, her hair… I think about my child every day, even if I know that I will never meet him.<br/>This is the reason why I left Elizabeth, I can’t bear to ruin another woman with my behaviour. I need to forget her, hoping she forgets me too.<br/> <br/>Fate works in very strange ways, you know.<br/>I wake up, as usual, ready to spend all day in my bed mourning about my lost love, when I hear Sigmund calling me from downstairs.<br/>I put my smoking jacket on and I go see what’s happening.<br/>And who I found in my entrance with a lovely yellow dress?<br/>Louisa Betten.<br/>«Louisa, what are you doing here? Are you all alone?». I ask her while Sigmund goes taking some tea and biscuits.<br/>«Yes, I came here to apologize».<br/>«Apologize?».<br/>«Yes, it was my fault if you left the ball. I’m sorry».<br/>«How could it may have been your fault?».<br/>«Because I was rude asking if you were married».<br/>«My little princess, you weren’t rude at all, and it was not your fault if I left the ball».<br/>«So, you will come home with me?» – asks her with the purest and lovely smile I’ve ever seen.<br/>«Yes, I will come home with you».<br/> <br/>So, thanks to Louisa Betten and her running away from home, I returned to the Betten. I said myself just to accompany the little girl, but I know I was lying to myself. <br/> <br/>As soon as the Betten see my couch and see Louisa go down of it, Elizabeth, Philipp and Alice run towards the little sister and hug her. It’s such a tender scene. <br/>«Lord Earnshaw, where have you found her?» – asks me Philipp with tears in his eyes.<br/>«Actually, she found me. She was at my home this morning when I woke up».<br/>«Louisa Maria Betten, how do you dare» – starts Alice, but I interrupt her.<br/>«Please, don’t. She is not to blame. It was my fault for my discourtesy at the ball. So, I came to apologize». I say looking at Elizabeth, but she doesn't look at me, she only looks at Louisa and then goes inside the house.<br/>«Please Lord Earnshaw, let me offer you a tea» – says Mrs Betten and everybody come into the house. <br/> <br/>«Miss Betten – I say, trying to attract Elizabeth attention – may I talk to you in the park?».<br/>She agrees, but I know she doesn’t want to talk to me.<br/>«I need to apologise to you particularly. For my behaviour during the ball. I'm sorry if I let you intend someth».<br/>«You didn’t let me intend anything – she says, interrupting me – Lord Earnshaw» she adds, to mitigate the rudeness of her previous sentence.<br/>«Anyways, I apologize» – and I bow to her.<br/>«You are excused, but only if you join me, Philipp and Alice at the gaming table» – she says smiling, and I fall for her all over again.<br/> <br/>The weeks pass and I spent every day with the Bettens and every day in other centuries thinking about her. I even took my phone with me once, just to take a photo of her and keeps it always with me.<br/> <br/>«Lord Earnshaw, you’re late this morning, we were expecting you for breakfast» – says Mrs Betten welcoming me.<br/>It’s September and I've spent nearly a month coming every day to the Betten's house. I know how Mrs Betten stares at me when I talk to Elizabeth, I know how much she wants me to propose to her, but I can't and I need to make this clear with Elizabeth.<br/> <br/>«Miss Elizabeth, do you want to join me for a little walk?» – I ask her, as usual, and she smiles and takes my arm.<br/>«Have you read the book I lent you?».<br/>«Yes, in one breath. It’s stunning. Thank you for letting me know Miss Austen».<br/>«I’m glad you liked it».<br/>“Pride and Prejudice” is my favourite book and I'm so happy she liked it.<br/>«Miss Elizabeth, I need to tell you something. Would you like to sit or to continue walking?».<br/>«This is what you need to tell me?» – her laugh makes everything more difficult.<br/>We sit and I start without further lateness.<br/>«Miss Elizabeth, I need to make something clear. I enjoy every moment we are together and every day I look forward for the moment we met, but».<br/>«But you can’t propose to me, I know».<br/>Her sentence leaves me speechless. How does she know?<br/>«I’m afraid yes».<br/>«I know, but, please don’t feel sorry for this. Everything I want is your friendship» – she says holding my hands and smiling warmly.<br/>«My friendship is yours, and always will be».<br/>«Well, so now that everything is clear can we continue talking about the book, there is something I would like to discuss with you».<br/>She is the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, and I’m profoundly in love with her.<br/> <br/>The month passes and Elizabeth and I are closer and closer, we are always together, we go to the theatre, to the exhibition, everywhere. <br/>We are to an art exhibition in London today and suddenly a man approaches us, a military with his blue uniform and bows introducing himself.<br/>«Please, allow me to introduce myself, I’m Captain Tristan, Lucas Tristan. My father was an old friend of Mr Betten that's why I dare to come to you» – and kisses Elizabeth’s hand.<br/>If only we weren’t in 1814 I would let him see what happens when you make a move with my woman.<br/>«Nice to meet you, Captain Tristan, allow me to introduce Lord Earnshaw».<br/>«Nice to meet you, Lord Earnshaw».<br/>«My pleasure Captain Tristan» – and I nod greeting him.<br/>«Now I need to go, but I hope to see you again this evening at the ball of Mrs Lavel».<br/>«Yes, we will attend it» – Elizabeth answers making it clear that I will be there too. Even if we are not engaged and never will be she treats me as if we were.<br/> <br/>At Mrs Lavel's ball, we see again the Captain, but my feelings towards him are different, he's a good man, respectable, kind and with a good fortune. The perfect man for Elizabeth, so maybe I should take me aside and let him court her…<br/>«Miss Betten, Lord Earnshaw, nice to see you again».<br/>«Nice to see you too, Captain».<br/>«I came here to ask Miss Betten a dance, of course, if she is not reserved for you, Lord».<br/>She looks at me, I haven’t asked her yet to dance with me, but I never did, we just danced together at every ball.<br/>«Of course, you can if Miss Elizabeth want to» – she’s weirded by my answer but accept the invitation of the Captain and goes dancing with him.<br/>I can’t avoid being jealous of him, from the moment we met I've always danced with her so I'm so pissed off from seeing her with another man, but I need to remember that I’m doing it for her. <br/>No sooner had I met Elizabeth Betten than my entire existence belonged to her, but she deserves to be happy. And if her happiness will be with Captain greasy hair and ridicule hat, I will do everything I can to facilitate.<br/>Although, even if I can’t see myself, I know I’m more beautiful than him. Just saying. <br/> <br/>The months pass, we are near Christmas and I’m preparing a huge Christmas party in my manor and when I’m not in 1814 I use all my time searching for a solution to my condition, trying to solve the mystery behind my life, but unsuccessfully.<br/> <br/>«Lord Earnshaw, what do you think of Captain Tristan?» – asks me Elizabeth out of the blue.<br/>«Well, he’s a good man. Has a good position and is a respected member of the English Marine».<br/>«I asked what YOU think of him, not what everybody knows».<br/>«I think he will be a perfect husband» – I say lowering my voice while talking and Elizabeth blushes, but just for a moment, then she grabs my arm and says.<br/>«Yes, he will the perfect husband, for somebody» – and smiles. I love her. I love her so much.<br/>It’s so beautiful to watch her, she’s so blissfully ignorant about the amount of damage I can infuse in her life with my mere presence. But even if I know that my existence is a persistent harm for her, like a knife that every day comes close and close to her heart, I can’t leave her. I can’t leave her.<br/> <br/>It’s in moment like this, Elizabeth and me by the fireplace, reading together that I think that maybe marring her and living with her it’s not such a stupid idea, but I always have the face of my wife in mind, the face of my child in my thoughts and I remember that every happy moment I spend with Elizabeth has its downside…<br/>«A light here requires a shadow there».[i]<br/>«Inspiring words, are there yours?».<br/>«Of course not, I'm not a writer. They are from…».<br/>And then suddenly a thought hits me, we are in 1814, Virginia Woolf hasn't even born yet, nor she has written “To the Lighthouse”. I need to care more about my tongue, I need to be more reflective.<br/>«I can’t remember where they are from, I’m such a forgetful».<br/>She smiles at me, with that face that always she gave to me when I expressed weakness or doubt, the smile that means “you are such a douche, but I still love you”.<br/> <br/>I return home after our little reading session to check some bits and pieces for the upcoming Christmas party and I find Sigmund on the door, as usual, welcoming me home.<br/>«Lord, a letter has arrived for you» – and he hands me the little paper, nothing more than a sentence written on it:<br/> <br/>Hello, Son.<br/>Your Father<br/> <br/>My hands shake, I start to hyperventilate, sweat, I can’t think, everything I know about myself collapses. <br/>My father? It’s possible that I have a father?<br/>«Sigmund, are you sure of this paper?».<br/>“My Lord?”<br/>Yes, I have the ability of articulation of a dead sloth right now, I understand that Sigmund does not know what I'm talking about.<br/>«Are you sure this letter was destined to me?».<br/>«Yes, my Lord. It was handed personally by the sender and not from the postal officer».<br/> <br/>The sender? So, my father has been here, while I was with Elizabeth. I need to contact him, but there is no address on the letter.<br/>«Sigmund, how long ago has it been handed?».<br/>«Few minutes before you arrived, my Lord».<br/>I go outside. If my father came on foot maybe he's still nearby.<br/>I start running without stopping on the road leading to the city, from the carriages I see people staring at me, probably thinking that I went insane, but I don’t care. I need to find my father, maybe he can help me, maybe he can free me.<br/>I run until I have almost no air in the lungs, but I can’t find him. <br/> <br/>«Son» – I hear, while I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn around and see the figure of a hooded man helping me.<br/>«Hello son» – he says and I pass out.<br/> <br/>When I open my eyes I’m in my house, on the couch in the main living room, with Sigmund and the hooded man near me.<br/>«My Lord, I’m relieved that you are awake» – Sigmund, thank you for always be with me.<br/>«Son» – says the hooded man touching my shoulder, but I move aside unconsciously and he retracts his hand with hurt eyes.<br/>«Listen, if you prefer I can call you by your name, Charles».<br/>«My name is Randall».<br/>I don’t know who this man is, I don’t know what he wants from me, so I’m not willing to believe what he says so easily.<br/>«May I ask your name?».<br/>«I can understand your hesitancy, my name is Tiberius, nice to finally meet you».<br/>«Well, Tiberius, what do you want from me, exactly?».<br/>«I want to know you, Charles… Uhm, Randall».<br/>«How did you found me?».<br/>«The only purpose of my life in the last 20 years has been to find you and to rebuilt our family».<br/>«I asked how did you found me».<br/>«May we talk alone?» – he says looking at Sigmund.<br/>«Of course not, there is nothing that Sigmund cannot know».<br/>He seems to be upset by this, clenches his fists and I see like a flash in his blue eyes, but he agrees and starts talking.<br/> <br/>«It was the1654, we lived in a little house, in the fields. We had a little farm, with few animals, our life was simple, but charming. Your mother, she was the purest and most beautiful human being alive. Claire was her name. You resemble her a lot, same blue eyes, same golden hair.<br/>But our happiness wasn’t destined to endure. Your mother contacted tetanus wounding with a piece of rusty iron. She began to suffer from paralysis of the limbs and mouth, then she could no longer move. She suffered horribly, but he tried not to make you understand. You were 10 at the time, but you were smart and you saw something was wrong.<br/>She died».<br/>He stops talking, takes off his cap and for the first time I can see him well. He’s young, or better, he’s younger that I expected. His face is provoked by weather and has tattoos on it. He’s crying, but immediately recomposes himself and starts telling again.<br/>«We buried her and everyday went to visit. But I couldn't live without her, even if I still had you. I started to drink and get into fights in the taverns. One night I was alone drinking and a man approached me. He said he could help me and, as desperate as I was, I did everything he said. He taught me black magic. I learned how to summon demons and on the 23rd of May, our lives changed forever.<br/>I summoned a demon in our house, asking him to resuscitate your mother. But he asked something in return, he wanted your soul. You were young and pure and he wanted you. I was blinded by my power, I thought I could do everything so I accepted the deal.<br/>I was a fool.<br/>He took your soul and sent it in a place with neither time nor space and you disappeared.<br/>I was sure I could have you back so I wasn’t scared.<br/>The demon gave me your mother back, but she was no longer her. She was a soulless shell, white eyes without pupils. I hated her, and I hated myself for what I had done.<br/>I killed her.<br/>And from that day on I spent every moment of my life searching for you».<br/> <br/>I listen silently, I don’t know what to say, I don’t know what to think. It’s the most unbelievable thing I’ve ever heard, but said by a man who wakes up every morning in a different historical period is somewhat ironic. Although, even if it is so implausible, explains some “features” of my condition. I don’t have a soul, that’s why I can’t reflect in mirror and in photographs, like old fashion vampires. <br/> <br/>«I know you don’t believe me, but it’s the truth».<br/>«Can you help me get my soul back?».<br/>«Well, maybe I can summon again the demon and bargain with him…».<br/>«Can you help me?».<br/>«I will do everything».<br/>«My Lord – Sigmund, who knows what he’s thinking about of all this? – your father will necessitate a chamber. I’m going to arrange it, with permission my Lord» – he bows and goes upstairs preparing the room.<br/>I don’t know what have I done to deserve Sigmund in my life. He’s more than a butler, he’s the best thing ever happened to me.<br/> <br/>Tiberius, Sigmund and I worked and studied hard for days, preparing everything to summon Astaroth, one of the princes of Hell, what we are planning is no joke.<br/>Everything I arranged for the Christmas party was thrown away, all unnecessary fatigue, but if you want to evoke a demon the Christmas tree and the statues of the Nativity are out of place.<br/> <br/>«In the midst of chaos there was shape; this eternal passing and flowing was struck into stability».[ii]<br/>This quote from Virginia Woolf perfectly describes my current situation, I was lost and now I have hope again. <br/> <br/>Finally, arrives the day, today everything will change. That finishes well or ends badly, nothing will be as before.<br/> <br/>«Randall, are you ready?» – my father asks. «Yes» – I answer, even if it’s not true. I’m not ready and I will never be. I have seen Elizabeth this morning and I have talked to her, tomorrow there will be my Christmas Party and I told her we will see there, but I don’t know if there will be any party, or if there will be any me… I could die today, or I could have my soul back. <br/>But there is no time for hesitation, it’s now or never. Now I’m ready.<br/> <br/>«Sigmund, close the curtains, please». My father and Sigmund get along very well, I’m so happy of this.<br/>In these days Tiberius and I talked a lot, he told me about my birth, my childhood, my mother. He said she had a beautiful voice and that she always sang to me, to make me fall asleep. I don't know if I remember her, maybe I remember someone singing, perhaps is her. I would desperately remember of her.<br/> <br/>«Randall, come here».<br/>I enter the circle my father drew with chalk on my esteemed and expensive parquet flooring (I asked him if we could do this outside, but he laughed at me… rude) and we start drawing a pentacle together while he says something in Latin. I understand a few words: summon, Prince, come, show yourself.<br/>All in a sudden, the candles we put in the points where the pentacle tips touch the circle start to change colour, before blue, then green. The floor trembles, like during an earthquake, and my aforementioned, expensive parquet flooring opens and from the hole comes black, dense smoke that fills the entire room and almost suffocates me and Sigmund.<br/>Here he comes, I can see a shadow coming from the hole. The powerful Astaroth, Prince of Hell is finally showing himself in all his magnificence…<br/>A toddler…<br/>A toddler with two pairs of wings and a puppy dog…<br/>Astaroth, Prince of Hell is a nursling.<br/>«You are kidding me?!».<br/>I can’t believe. Days and days of arranging, stupid magic formulas, chalk drawings everywhere in my house and we summon an infant … what the fuck!<br/> <br/>I’m about to get out of the circle, but my father grabs my arm with strength.<br/>«Randall, you can’t get out!».<br/>«You’re making a fool of me!».<br/>«I’m not, this is Astaroth».<br/>«This is a brat!».<br/>«Sorry to interrupt this lovely family reunion, but I’m starting to offend. I was going to torment souls when I was called into this… – says the toddler levitating inside the pentacle and looking around – charming house» – he adds with the expression at the limits of the nauseated. «Would you like to explain why I’m here?».<br/>«You are here to return something».<br/>«Mine was a rhetorical question. I’m an infernal prince, I know everything» – says the “mighty demon” with a shrug of shoulders.<br/>«Well, so give me my soul back».<br/>«You’re very rude, child».<br/>«That’s rich coming from you, child».<br/>«I’m older that the time itself. I may look like a child, but trust me, it’s for your own good».<br/>This last sentence it's so funny that I start laughing without being able to stop.<br/>«YOU WANTED IT» – shouts Astaroth and from his opened mouth comes a light beam and he starts growing and growing while the puppy becomes a scary and grotesque infernal hound with hundreds of sharp teeth drooling blood. Astaroth, instead, passes from innocent, chubby toddler to a bloodcurdling figure as high as the ceiling, with no eyes, just two empty holes dripping ichor. From the mouth, equipped with hundreds of sharp teeth, a long black tongue emerges. On the head, a pair of bony horns it’s coupled with two pairs of bony wings, the bigger pair is ripped and dripping ichor as the eyes, while the smaller looks like bat wings. To complete the disturbing picture a long dragon tail covered with scales stirs restlessly behind the demon.<br/> <br/>«DOES MY APPEARANCE SUITS YOU MORE NOW?» – the voice does not arrive me through the ears, the words reverberate into my brain as if there was an echo, provoking an incessant headache.<br/>«Yes, definitely» – I say tightening the head with my hands.<br/>«Now return the soul to my son» – says my father, he does not seem to suffer and is perfectly calm, maybe he has seen worst things in his life. <br/>«YES».<br/>«Yes?» – I’m shocked, I was willing to fight for it.<br/>«Yes Randall, I will give you back your soul. I wanted it when it was pure and untouched, but now I no longer need it. You can have your soul back and return to 1654 when you were 10».<br/>«What?» – I didn’t have planned to return to 1600, I want to stay here, I want to live with Elizabeth.<br/>«YES. I TOOK YOUR SOUL THERE AND THERE I WILL RETURN IT».<br/>«No, I want to stay there, in 1814»<br/>«I’M NOT A JINN, I’M NOT HERE TO FULFILL YOUR WISHES, YOU WON’T HEAR ME SINGING “NEVER HAD A FRIEND LIKE ME”. I’M GIVING YOU A GIFT AND YOU SHOULD BE GREATFUL».<br/>«In that case, I don’t want it».<br/>«YOU AREN’T LISTENING. I’M NOT HERE TO DO WHAT YOU WANT. I CAN DESTROY YOUR HOUSE, YOUR CITY, YOUR ENTIRE UNIVERSE WITH A SNAP OF FINGERS. YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!».<br/>«But I can – interrupts him my father – I have summoned you, I control you».<br/>«YOU’RE MAKING THE SAME MISTAKE YOU MADE IN 1600. YOU’RE NOT POWERFUL ENOUGH TO CONTROL ME» – says Astaroth laughing.<br/>«You’re right. I wasn’t powerful enough back then, but now I am and you know. From the moment you appeared, I know you perceived my power. And you want it. Let’s make a deal, I offer you my power, my life, myself and you in return let my son stay here. You’re in?»<br/>«Tiberius!» – I shout. I don’t want him to renounce his power or his life for me, he has already done a lot for me.<br/>«Charles, listen, I had been a terrible father for you, I have to make amend».<br/>«But you are not obliged, I forgive you!».<br/>«This makes me very happy, but I have to do it anyway. I must protect you and help you realise your wishes. It’s my duty as a father and I want to be a good one, just once. I love you, son».<br/>Astaroth touches my father and he starts to disappear becoming dust.<br/>«I love you, dad».<br/>«FAREWELL RANDALL! AND PLESE, NEVER CALL ME AGAIN».<br/>Astaroth and the hound disappear, the chalk drawings erase, the hole in the floor closes and everything returns as it was before my father arrived.<br/>But I’m irreversibly changed.<br/>Throughout my life, I thought I was completely alone in the world, that my parents abandoned me because I was “defective”. And instead, they loved me. My mother loved me and loved me until the last day and my father... my father loved me to the most extreme consequences, he loved me so much to sacrifice his own life for me. I hope, one day, to repay him.<br/>I start crying, kneeling on the floor, with hands covering my face.<br/>«My Lord – says Sigmund joining me on the floor and hugging me – your father has done what was required by his role of parent. You don’t have to feel sad because you lose him, but happy because you have met him».<br/>I hug him and start crying on his shoulder like I did when I was a child and he comforts me, like a father. I’m glad I still have him, he has been the rock of my life, the anchor in the storm. <br/>«My Lord, now we have to get up and get us settled. We have a party to organise».<br/> <br/>We spend all the evening arranging the last details to tomorrow’s party, deciding what to wear, what to eat.<br/>It’s the middle of the night when I finally go to bed and for the first time in my life, I dream. I see my mother, I see my father, I see my life in 1654. The little house in the fields, the animals in the farmyard. Everything is so clear for me, I remember now, I remember everything.<br/> <br/>«Lord Earnshaw, what a marvellous party you organised».<br/>«Thank you, Mrs Betten».<br/>The party is almost over, Elizabeth is stunning as usual and we danced every dance together (also because I “forget” to invite Captain Tristan) and everybody had fun, but I have one last thing to do.<br/> <br/>«Thank you, Mr Betten, thank you very much».<br/>«No, Lord Earnshaw, thank you».<br/> <br/>I stand in the middle of the room, asking for silence and attention.<br/>«First of all, thank you for having taken part in my Christmas party – they applause, but I need to stay focus to finish my speech – before letting you go home, please, allow me just a few words. The first day I moved here I was enraptured by the beauty of this place. In my life, I have visited a huge number of places, but, I confess, nothing can be compared to this. When I settled there I was lost, and I’m not talking about being lost in the woods as the poor Mr Fenris – everybody laughs remembering when Mr Fenris lost himself in the woods after a couple of drinks –. I mean that my mind and my soul were lost, but I found myself. I found myself thanks to a special person, whom I ask to join me here. Miss Betten, please» – I say lengthening the hand in her direction. She’s so shy that approaches me blushing.<br/>«Miss Betten, I want to thank you in front of everyone for all you have done for me and… I need to ask you something – I kneel and I pull out of my waistcoat’s pocket a ring – Would you make me the honour to become my wife?».<br/>She starts crying and kneels near me.<br/>«Yes, a thousand times yes».<br/>I start to cry and our foreheads touch while I put the ring on her finger.<br/>We kiss.<br/>This is what happiness looks like for me.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> </p>
<p>[i] Virginia Woolf, “To the Lighthouse”, London, 1927, Hogarth Press, p. 44<br/>[ii] Virginia Woolf, “To the Lighthouse”, London, 1927, Hogarth Press, p. 135</p>
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